


With Soul of Light and Dark

by CrimsonMyriad



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-19 20:08:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonMyriad/pseuds/CrimsonMyriad
Summary: As the Order knows full-well, only the pure of heart can cast a Patronus. When Snape saves Harry from the dementors and reveals his doe Patronus, the Order have reason to trust their spy. Snape knows that he could aid the war effort with his logic and ingenuity, but will the Order trust him enough to accept it? Order of the Phoenix, Snape-centric AU





	1. The Silver Doe

**Disclaimer: I do not own the _Harry Potter_ Series. I'm only being an innocent FanFiction writer and playing around with J.K. Rowling's world.**

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**_This AU fanfiction begins at the opening of_ ** **Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix _, and although it is Snape-centric, it also explores the characters of Harry, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. It's AU nature is based around three questions._**

**_1~ If the Order were able to accept and trust Snape, how could his untapped genius contribute to the war-effort?_ **

**_2~ If Sirius hadn't died, would he have eventually matured out of his Azkaban-frozen youth?_ **

**_3~ If Sirius lived, would Harry not become emotionally volatile and prone to using the Cruciatus Curse?_ **

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**_Author's Note: Well hello, Ao3! As of 16/12/2018 there are 11 chapters of the fanfiction on Fanfiction.com under the same user title and FF title. I am bringing the story over chapter by chapter to this platform so it will take a month for all the chapters to be on Ao3._ **

 

**Chapter 1: The Silver Doe**

**_Severus Snape_ **

**_August 2, 1995_ **

Severus Snape was having a miserable summer. At least during the school term he could count on the Dark Lord not to expect so much of him, but during the long, sweaty summer spent in Spinner's End, he found himself constantly at the beck and call of the snake-faced villain. "Invent more spells, Ssseverus. Brew me potions, Sssseverus. Milk my bloody snake, Sssseverus." Snape snarled softly, slicing the newt spleen with a marked, yet controlled fury. As he added the ingredient to the bubbling cauldron at his elbow, he drew his ranting back into the safety of his own mind.  _'It is times like this that I bitterly regret pledging myself to Dumbledore's service. He has no idea what he asks. And on top of that, I am guilt-ridden to keep an eye on the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Vex-Me, Harry bloody Potter… even during the holidays.'_  He sighed softly, leaning his eye over to glance at his magical map of the Privet Drive neighbourhood.  _'At least I don't have to watch him sit in a garden hedge for another two days yet.'_

Now,  _that_  wasn't right… Snape frowned, staring at the little spark on his map that had faded out, signalling an exiting apparition. An unscheduled one. The guard, whoever it was, had vanished, and there was no one to replace him… the Potter boy was unprotected. Snape stared at the map for a few moments longer, yet no new marker appeared.

Leaving his potion to burble away to its destruction, Snape withdrew a shrunken notebook from the deep pockets in his robes, and enlarged it with a softly chanted,  _'Engorgio'._ Upon scrutinising the Order notebook that marked Potter's guard schedule, Snape was unsurprised to find that the unscheduled apparition came from none other than Mundungus Fletcher.  _'Why Dumbledore trusts that blasted little fleabag is beyond me.'_ He raged, shrinking his notebook and map and tucking them into his thick black robes. He stopped, and let out a low chuckle that vibrated around the small room.  _'Then, that's what the Order says about **me**  all the time, isn't it?' he muttered to himself._

Letting out a heavy sigh, he ran his fingers through his long, greasy strands of raven hair.  _'I suppose I'd better take up Dung's watch… for Lily's son, as always. And none of the Order have a map of Privet Drive as I do…'_

Exiting his shabby house, he swiftly disillusioned himself and apparated into the most boring neighbourhood imaginable. Neatly clipped grass lawns, well-polished cars, and box-like houses with neatly curtained windows. Snape didn't really mind the organised nature of the street... if it wasn't for the sickening Muggle sense of  _ordinary_ that the street of Privet Drive seemed devoted to. Organised and ordinary… a sad confliction.

Well, there was someone in Privet Drive who was neither ordinary  _or_ organised. Swiftly locating Mrs. Figg on his map, Snape stalked over to her house, his nose twitching in distaste when he caught the stench of boiled carriage oozing warmly from the ajar front door. She was sitting on her front porch, her pale, thickly spectacled eyes anxious and wide as she absently stroked one of her hideous, half-Kneazle cats.

Softly stepping onto the porch and positioning himself behind her chair, Snape cancelled out his disillusion-charm, and rumbled softly, "Mrs. Figg. Are you aware that Potter is currently devoid of any magical protection?"

"Professor Snape!" She squawked, relief evident on her face. Leaping up and grasping his hands, she babbled, "Am I ever so glad to see you! He left! Mundungus left, and Vance isn't due to arrive for another five hours! I'm going to  _kill_ him when I find him."

Stiffly unhanded himself from the squib's grip, Snape returned, "I am afraid I shall get there before you, with regards to that particular honour. I have no desire to sacrifice my day guarding the boy, but, it appears that thanks to that filthy little cretin…" his lip curled sourly. "In any case, I shall go and find the boy, but you must contact Dumbledore and explain the situation.  _Try_ and get someone else to come, for I have neither the time nor inclination to remain here."

And with that, the Potions Master disillusioned himself once more, and swept away from the old lady's cabbage stinking porch. According to his map, the Potter boy was in the local playground with his Muggle cousin.  _'Lazing around again. Typical, what else should I expect from a Potter?'_ he sneered inwardly, walking briskly towards the point on the map.

The figures were moving off, now, towards him. They cut off into an alley-way…  _'Idiot. This is just the kind of place in which the Dark Lord could easily take you.' Snape quickened his pace._

According to the footprint patterns on the map, Potter and his cousin Dursley had stopped and were facing each other at the foot of the alley.  _There._ Snape skidded sharply to a stand-still, pulling up the other end of the backstreet. Two figures stood out starkly in the fading daylight… one tall and burly, and the other small and thin-  _Potter_. And, if Snape's eyes weren't playing tricks on him, the boy had his wand pressed firmly into his fat cousin's chest.  _'Breaking the rules again, are we, Potter? About to use magic on your Muggle cousin? Isn't there a law against that somewhere?"_

Snape's inward snarks were suddenly, inexplicably cut off when a chill ran through his body, like ice water being trickled down his back. The evening sky had swirled dark, the street lights shutting off as if by a switch, and the purple-hued sky crashing into inky blackness. It was as if the alley-way had turned into an ice-box, frosty mist wrapping around Snape like a black, frozen blanket.

_Dementors_.

Snape shuddered, unspeakable fear gripping him. Here? Did Voldemort send them? He had more reason than most to fear the spectres, having spent two long weeks in Azkaban pending his trial. The memories of that nightmare began flooding through him, visions of himself curled up in that little cell, his Occlumenic shields slowly shredding away with every passing day… and every time the dementor poked a hole in his shields, he was assaulted by the memories of what he had done… He hadn't faced dementors since then until that horrid year… the year of Sirius Black's escape. Savagely, he shoved those memories away, and steadied his beating heart. The past was no aid to him in the present… not when he had to once again save the blasted Potter boy. Jamming down his iron mental shields, Snape withdrew his wand. He could see the oily black shadows of the dementors attacking the boys in distance… the Muggle boy falling…  _'Now or never, Severus.'_ He snapped to himself.  _'Perhaps, if I play this right, I can remove myself before the boy sees.'_

Now, for his happy memory… there had always been so few of them… but there was that one…

_It was the morning after the Sorting Ceremony… Severus had come down into the Great Hall, feeling completely miserable. It was meant to all be so perfect, being at Hogwarts, away from his abusive father and cold, unresponsive mother. But it seemed Severus's luck would play out against him, as always. Lily and he had been sorted into different houses, and the Slytherins hadn't been too impressed with their new little half-blood housemate._

" _Snape? What kind of pure-blood family name is that?" Rosier had asked, brow screwed up in puzzlement. "Is it Bulgarian?"_

_Mulcibar had leaned forward, pale eyes gleaming with hostility. "It isn't a pure-blood name, you idiot. It's **Muggle** … you a Mud-blood, Snape?"_

" _No…" Severus had gasped, wondering what a Mudblood was. "I'm… I mean, my father is a Muggle… but my mother is a witch."_

" _Half-blood." They spat, and rudely turned their backs on him._

_So that morning, when he searched the room for Lily's green eyes, he hadn't expected to see them. He thought she's be off with her new Gryffindor friends while he had to make do with the snarky disdain of his house-mates. But a soft touch on his shoulder later, and suddenly he was looking into those green eyes he knew so well._

" _Lily." He'd smiled sadly. "We're in different houses."_

" _Sev. We're best friends." She grabbed his arm firmly. "Who cares what houses we're in? Who cares what anyone says? We're best friends, so our houses don't make **any difference**."_

" _No." he agreed, a warm feeling filling his chest. "It doesn't make any difference."_

_And for a few short years, it hadn't._

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Snape roared, disillusioning involuntarily, his wand arm stretching high in the air. A beautiful silver doe soared from the tip of his wand, trailing blue-white light behind her as she sprinted on elegant cloven hoofs towards the frantic pair of boys. Within moments, both dementors were simultaneously thrown backwards, and, bowing in defeat, they fled into the clearing sky. The chill began to dissuade, and the lights flickered back on. The trees rustled as a warm breeze filled the alley-way, catching up the scents of fresh leaves and flowers. They were gone.

And Snape's doe, it's deed done, trotted back towards him, casting her light onto his gaunt face before dissolving into mist.

"S….  _SNAPE?_ "

The Potions Master groaned. The boy had seen him.

**_Harry Potter_ **

**_August 2, 1995_ **

Harry had been terrified, the chilled feeling of misery pressing into his skull with a vice-grip he could hardly shake. With shaking fingers gripped around his wand, he'd been about to try and cast the Patronus charm when he heard  _it_. From the other end of the alley, a powerful, thundering cry…

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

And the galloping little doe, beautiful, fierce and strong, had flown towards him, throwing up a shield of silver light. The dementors had been both tossed backwards, as if having been blasted by a cannon. The doe advanced threateningly on the them, daring them to fight back, but the hooded spectres instead turned and fled, swooping away and fading into the black of the sky.

When the mist cleared and the dementor's shade lifted from the alleyway, Harry cast his head about to see who was the owner of the beautiful doe Patronus. The doe was skipping away from him, heading straight towards a dark solitary figure that stood at the end of the alley. Then, upon reaching the middle of the street, the doe halted, her light showing very clearly just  _who_ that figure was. Then, she dissolved into the ash-pelted alley.

There was no mistaking that face. Ghost-white, gaunt, with a hooked nose and hollow eye-sockets, long dark hair hanging like a curtain around his frown furrowed face.

"S…  _SNAPE?_ "

Harry couldn't believe it… what was his hated Potions professor doing here? This was somehow even more surprising than the dementors' presence. And a doe? That was not the Patronus he had expected from the snarky old git. Perhaps a bat- a fox even, but a doe?

Snape swept towards him, black robes billowing in the summer breeze. He looked much the same as he always did. The same black teaching robes, the same greasy hair. He seemed a bit thinner, and had purple circles under his eyes, but the scowl was unmistakable.

"Getting into trouble as usual, I suppose, Potter?" he remarked, moving to inspect Dudley, who was groaning on the ground. "Care to explain all this?"

Explain? How was any of this his fault? Harry's hackles were raised in indignance.

' _He did just save your life.'_ He reminded himself.

"I… I don't know. Me and Dudley were arguing, and they just… appeared. I was about to cast the Patronus char when the doe…" he waved his hand in a useless gesture. "I don't know why they were here."

"I could make a few guesses." Snape's dark figure remarked grimly, almost as if to himself. His wand seemed to be casting some kind of healing charm over Dudley, a golden light emanating from his wand.

"Will he be alright?" Harry asked.

"The Muggle will be fine. Would you like to explain this incident to your relatives, or shall I remove his memory of all this?" Snape asked briskly.

"Uhhh…" this was strange… Snape was being almost… neutral. But then, he probably had more on his mind at present then engaging in verbal wordplay with his most hated student. "Remove it. Uh, sir."

"As the Chosen One wishes."

Oh, there it is. The unmistakable Snape sneer. The world was in orbit once again.

"Um. Sir?"

"What, Potter?" Snape barked, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration as he performed the memory charm on Dudley, who seemed to have been put into an unconscious sleep. "Sir, what are  _you_ doing here?"

"Use your brain, boy. A certain dark wizard has just returned from the dead with a personal vendetta against you, one I find sorely misplaced. Do you really think Dumbledore would allow you to go unguarded every time you decide to twitter off down to the local swing-set?"

"You were… guarding me?"

" _I_ was  _meant_ to be sitting in my home, brewing a potion that is likely ruined now. If not for that dirty little turd of a guard running off, I wouldn't be here at all."

"Who… who was meant to be guarding me? Why did he leave?"

"Mundungus Fletcher." Snape replied shortly, levitating Dudley into a horizontal position. "I always told Dumbledore he was good for nothing. Probably abandoned his duty to chase a load of stolen goods."

Rising in all his batlike splendour, Snape sharply turned to Harry. "Come, Potter. I'm taking you to your house. And I don't want you to leave until Dumbledore sends you a note telling you what to do. I am assuming that he'll want to relocate you in a few days."

"Relocate me where?" Harry asked. "The Burrow?"

"None of your business." Snape hissed, making quick strides through the alley, keeping Dudley's floating body ahead of them. "Wait." He turned and spun around. "Potter, since I did just save your miserable hide, I think I am justified in asking that you tell no one exactly what form my Patronus takes."

"Why, sir? Is it because it's such a girly form?" Harry smirked. However, he realized that it was the wrong thing to say when Snape's eyes burned with a sudden rage, and he grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt.

"You will tell  _NO. ONE._  Am I making myself clear? Or perhaps you are unaware of my role at present?"

"I… you are a spy. For Dumbledore against Voldemort-"

"Yesssss…" Snape hissed, winching at the dark wizard's name and releasing Harry's shirt. "And that position requires  _secrecy…_  however much you may want to see me twitching to death under the  _Cruciatus_ curse, Potter, Dumbledore rather has need of me. So, I repeat, you will tell  _no one_. Is that clear?"

Strangely discomforted with the image Snape presented of himself being tortured to death, Harry quickly acquiesced.

"Come on, then. You've wasted quite enough of my time with your insufferable arrogance."

They walked the rest way in silence.

When they finally came to the door of Number 4., Snape lowered Dudley to the ground, crossed his arms, staring impassively at the door and beyond Harry.

Picking up Dudley's dead-weight body and slinging his meaty arm over his shoulder, Harry paused at the door.

"Sn-Sir?"

"What, Potter?" Snape sneered.

"Uh…" he gulped. No. He was not going to thank  _that_. "Um, I could have produced a Patronus charm, you know."

Snape bristled, and Harry cringed. Yeah, okay, that did sound pretty ungrateful.

"Idiot." The pale teacher snorted contemptuously. "And if you did that, you'd probably be expelled, which  _unfortunately_  is no longer an option with the Dark Lord running about. Now get inside, and I hope not to see your irritating face until term starts."

' _The feeling is mutual.'_ Harry thought, suppressing his guilty feelings as he entered the house and shut the door firmly behind him.

Silently as he prepared himself to face his relative's inevitable hysterical hostility, a stray thought passed unbidden through his mind.  _'So, why exactly IS Snape's Patronus a doe?'_

 


	2. A Change of Perspective

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter._ As per the purpose of this website, I am merely playing with another person's creation. It's okay, FanFiction is legal.**

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**Chapter 2: A Change of Perspective**

**_Severus Snape_ **

**_August 2, 1995_ **

Grimmauld Place was not a pleasant locale. It was part of the old London... the parts most people thought of as black and grimy and poor... yet few knew that once, just a few hundred years earlier, Grimmauld Place had been frequented by the aristocratic and wealthy middle class. Once the cobblestones were clean, glossy, free of the garbage that now was strewn across nearly every square inch of the street. Once gleaming and polished carriage wheels crunched over that street, and well-bred horses whinnied, prancing impatiently in the cold as they waited for their masters to finish getting drunk at whatever house party they found it paramount to attend. But now? A deep sense of gloom shrouded the dark street. Scarcely any light could penetrate Grimmauld Place, for its towering dark bricked apartments lined both streets and gothic like roofing loomed over the path, twisting what little sunlight there was into gaunt, malevolent silhouettes. Here in this claustrophobic, dark and narrow prison, the air was dead, still, and rank with the stench of festering garbage. The streets were mostly empty... those that did frequent Grimmuald Place tending to be vile and pitiable characters... ragged little boys, tired working-class women, decrepit old men and the average soft-drunk. It was generally a silent street, excepting the distasteful 70s music that pulsed dismally from one of the nearby apartments. But you see, poor and dilapidated as it was, it still retained a sort of pitiful, stubborn dignity. It would  _not_ be the street on which brawls broke out, or where the screams of a domestic quarrel could be heard five doors down. No, Grimmauld Place would quietly continue on, sinking silently lower and lower into poverty and neglect, but without any drama or excitement. Nothing happens at Grimmauld Place.

But recently, strange things  _had_ begun to occur... at first, no one took much notice of it. Although it was quite an unobtrusive sort of happening, it was unusual for Grimmauld Place. Strange people had been seen walking down the street. Where they went, no one much cared... it wasn't anyone's business, but the clothing those strangers wore... _was_  curious. Most curious. Most of them wore long robes that swept across the garbage strewn cobbles, some of shabby brown and others of brilliant blues and reds. One man had a long silver beard that dropped to his knees, and another, younger person sported brightly dyed hair of a shade that no one could ever quite remember. So yes, something was happening. But the people of Grimmauld Place did not gossip. They just watched, without scrutiny and without interest.

So it was to no one's surprise when another robed figure appeared in the streets one summer night, moving with a grace that seemed alien to the dreary darkened street. It was a man, tall and thin, dressed completely in black. He walked at a rapid, vengeful pace with his head held high and shoulders flung back. A dingy street lamp shone onto his pallid face, casting his gaunt features into a display of shadows and ridges, with high cheekbones jutting out from his face, emphasizing his sunken eye-sockets and lower cheeks. His thin white mouth was clamped tightly shut, and a scowl seemed to twist his features in a most unpleasant way. A dark pair of eyes glinted in the night, constantly roving back and forth, as if he were expecting an attack. Shoulder-length stringy hair shadowed his thin angular face, and his robes billowed impressively, almost concealing the slenderness of his frame.

The figure suddenly stopped, and for just a moment, shuddered violently, as if cast out in a blizzard.

Then, with an even tighter jaw, he stepped onto the sidewalk and walked towards the apartments.

If the neighbours had continued watching, they would have suddenly found themselves wandering into other thoughts... and when they snapped back to reality, they would have been unable to remember what house the man had gone into, or indeed, if he had even gone into a house at all.

But Severus Snape  _had_  gone into a house.

_'Number 12, Grimmauld Place.'_ as the words passed through Snape's mind, the brick face of the vast, interconnected apartments began to stretch, and, slowly, another apartment appeared between No.11 and No.13. At first glance this apartment was much the same as the two that stood next to it, but it seemed to be great deal older and dirtier. Upon the peeling and ancient door, an ugly metallic snake was coiled up - the doorknocker... even now, despite weeks of frequenting Number 12, Snape still felt a sense of disgust as he gripped the twisted serpent and knocked it, twice, against the heavy wood.

The Black residence... through long abandoned until very recently, it still reeked of Dark Magic.  _'Or Black Magic'_ Snape jibed internally. Never had a family been more aptly named than the Blacks. They were a very old pureblood family with ties stretching back into King Richard the Lionheart's time. Not quite as old as Snape's mother's line though... Severus smirked slightly. Poor and obsolete as the Prince bloodline was now, it had had an ancient and noble history. It was said that the Prince line came directly from Prince Gildas, the magical son of King Arthur himself... but the line destroyed itself in its efforts to remain pure. It interbred and quarrelled, frequently disowning members that took mates outside of purebred families. Pure blood. Nothing less would suit the Princes. It was then ironic that the last Prince, Severus Snape, should be a half-blood. The Half-Blood Prince. Severus never cared much for blood purity. After all, it was the Princes' incessant interbreeding that gave him such an ugly visage. How he had inherited his intelligence, he could not have been sure, but he owed the Prince's no favours in the looks department. The Black family had been more shrewd in their choice of mates. All purebloods, that remained the same, but the selection differed. As a result, the Blacks constantly turned out quite handsome broods. Severus felt a twinge of bitterness when he considered Sirius's good looks and the beauty of Andromeda, Narcissa and Bellatrix. But beauty wasn't everything. The Blacks were a thoroughly nasty collection of personalities. Most were followers of Dark Magic, and known for disturbing and gruesome habits. But even those of the Blacks that followed 'The Light'... even those Blacks were unable to set aside the strain of vindictiveness and cruelty that had been firmly bred into the Black blood-line. Some people liked to think that Andromeda and Sirius were shining examples of bravery and integrity, but Severus knew better. Andromeda was arrogant- not of her blood, but of herself and of her independence. She looked down on those that had weakened... those that had followed stronger people because they had no one to turn to. When Severus was twenty, having just turned spy for the Order against the Dark Lord, Andromeda had treated him like a pathetic worm.  _'...crawling back whining to the Light side after he got bitten by the Dark. Let him return to where he belongs.'_ She mellowed somewhat after, but Snape never forgot what she had said. And Sirius... Snape's lip curled. He would always hate Sirius, whoever's side he may be on.

Again, he shuddered involuntarily. Tonight had not been a good night. The Dark Lord was very in a very sour mood... for, thanks to that little trip down to Privet Drive, Snape had been unable to supply his dark master with all the potions he had demanded. Of course, his small failure prompted a bit of an unbalanced response... but who ever said the Dark Lord was rational? Snape's limbs ached from the  _Cruciatus_ curse... and a dull pain emanated from a flesh wound in his side. But he was far too drained to attempt a healing spell. He truly wanted nothing more than to go back to Spinner's End stretch his long limbs out onto his bed, and sleep. And in the morning, though his nerves and muscles would scream and ache, he'd heal himself, as he always did. But until this stupid little Order meeting was over, he had to be strong. Carefully placing his Occlumency shields across his mind, he prepared himself to ignore the pain.

A few moments following the knock, the door opened, and Snape found himself looking down into the plump and cheery face of Molly Weasely. He had often seen her smile at other people... a wide, genuine and looking smile. She gave that smile to her family, to Dumbledore, to Sirius, to Tonks... but that smile was never given to him. Oh, she smiled at him, but Severus knew the difference. She did try harder than any of the other Order members, but she still did not trust him. Snape knew it should not bother him - it never bothered him with anyone else- yet Molly Weasely was such a motherly figure, and her maternal love had always been extended to everyone, both young and old. And even though she tried to act the same way around him, Snape knew she did not feel that motherly love that she offered him. It was a platitude, nothing more. And Snape hated platitudes.

"Severus!" she beamed (a bit too brightly). "Come in. Dumbledore says you have something important to tell us."

With barely a nod of acknowledgement, Snape followed the woman into the grimy but well-lit house.

"Look whose here!" Molly cheerfully said upon entering the kitchen where the Order members were seated. She seemed not to notice the cold and uncomfortable stares that passed her to reach the man standing behind her.

Now these attitudes Snape could handle. No pity, no guilt, no pretence... just common hate, distrust and fear.  _'Death Eater.'_ He could hear their unspoken snarl. He curled his lip into his customary sneer, hoping to convey to them just how little he cared for their animosity. Moody stared spitefully at him with his one good eye, while his other, magical eye pierced through his clothing… he at least could see Snape's seeping wound. And, usual, the mangy old Auror did nothing but smirk mockingly at him. There was Sturgis Podmore, with his little weak chin and pale eyes squinted into a distrustful grimace, Emmaline Vance, looking down her long elegant nose at him in revulsion, Kingsley Shacklebolt, his face placid but his coffee-dark eyes scrutinizing him with that interminable gaze. Lupin and Arthur Weasley were clearly uncomfortable, and Sirius… Snape glared at him with special loathing. Sirius, as always, looked at him as if he should be punished for merely existing. He'd said so often enough. Only Dumbledore looked at him with amiability, although his mind was obviously far away, judging by the tiny concerned furrow in the old man's brow.

"Ah, Severus, sit down. You must tell the rest of the Order of this new… development regarding Harry." Dumbledore gestured to the empty chair next to him.

Sirius quickly started and with a snarl, asked, "What does  _he_ know about my godson?"

Snape ignored the mutt, and with an impressive billow of his robes, swept across the kitchen floor to take his seat at the Headmaster's side.

"Yes, what's this about Harry?" Molly asked, also sitting down.

"As usual, the Potter boy has managed to make himself an annoyance-" Snape began, then, seeing Dumbledore's warning glance, hesitated. "However, I suppose this time it is not his fault."

"Get to the point,  _Snivillus_." Sirius snapped.

A dull rage coursed through Snape's veins. "If you call me that one more time and I shall hex to the point where you will never discover what happened to your  _precious_ godson." Snape could feel a dark flush creeping up to his cheeks, and, his anger making him forget about his injured side, he leapt to his feet. Then, he froze, a groan rising unbidden from his lips. He clenched his side, cursing himself for showing weakness, and slipped back down into his seat. "But I suppose that will have to wait." He muttered sourly.

Sharp blue eyes bored into his skull, and Dumbledore put his hand on Snape's thin shoulder. "Severus, are you alright?"

"Fine." Snape snapped, ignoring Sirius's mocking leer. "You want to know what happened to Potter? Well, that filthy little excuse for a wizard, Mundungus Fletcher, took off after some stolen batch of cauldrons when he should have been watching the boy. So, I went off to waste my day guarding the boy… and it was just as well I did, because if I hadn't been there, Mundungus would now be responsible either for Potter's death or his expulsion."

"WHAT?" Sirius roared, leaping to his feet while several of the Order members gasped and passed each other worried looks.

"Calm down, mutt." Snape sneered. "I know you don't get much excitement hiding away in your mother's house, but it's a little pathetic to compensate for it with such a dramatic display. The boy lives,  _unfortunately_. But I'm very curious as to why he and his Muggle cousin where attacked by two dementors on their way back to their home."

"Dementors?" Lupin's typically serene face suddenly was a picture of horror. "Dementors? Who the hell sent them? Has… Merlin, has Voldemort got control of dementors now?"

_Why_ did the damn werewolf have to use the Dark Lord's name? Snape supressed his discomfort, and answered, "Not that I am aware. I'm more inclined to believe those dementors came courtesy of our resident ostrich Minister."

Suddenly Molly's eyes darted towards him with the speed of a hunting lioness. "How… how did  _you_  get rid of them?"

"The same way all competent wizards get rid of dementors." Snape retuned irritably.

Sirius let out a short bark of laughter. "What are you talking about? Everyone knows  _Death Eaters_ can't produce a Patronus."

" _This_ Death Eater can." Snape glared hotly at his enemy. "What do you think I did, showed them my Dark Mark and warded them off with it?"

"Something like that." Sirius muttered.

"Dumbledore, is this true?" The Weasley patriarch asked, his blue eyes wide and curious.

"Yes, Arthur. I looked at Severus's memory. But of course, I already knew he could produce a Patronus, though it has been some years since the need has arisen."

Now, one of Weasley's children spoke up… Bill, it was. Snape remembered Bill being sorted in his second year of teaching… he'd been rather smart for a Gryffindor, but with that typical dash of foolhardiness that made Gryffindors unbearable. "But Professor Dumbledore, a Patronus is one of the Lightest form of magic. Surely the Dark Mark would smother such a charm?"

Blue eyes twinkling in that infernal way they always did, Dumbledore said smoothly, "Ah, but there are forces of magic stronger than those belonging to Voldemort, young Mr. Weasley. And it just so happens that Severus in possession of one such power."

"What do you-" began Sirius, but Snape cut him off.

"Amusing as this analysis of my magical morals must be for all of you, don't we have more important thing to discuss? Like what should be done with the boy now?" Snape did not expect any thanks. Potter had given him none, as always. So why should any of the Order? His hands shook slightly- after-affects from the  _Cruciatus_ \- so he tucked them delicately under the table.

"Harry will have to come here, of course." Dumbledore immediately said. "I imagine his relatives will give him a hard time regarding his cousin's condition- he was with Harry at the time of the attack- although, I understand, Severus, that you removed the Muggle's memory of the incident."

Snape inclined his head briefly. His limbs were beginning to stiffen, and his side was pulsing with pain… he didn't know how much more of this meeting he could handle.

"Alastair, I'll want you to organise for Harry to get here. Of course, you will need to be extremely vigilant…" Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed teasingly, and a low chuckle reverberated around the room, all reminded of Moody's constant, paranoid refrain  _'constant vigilance'_  "…for, after all, Voldemort will seek to take the boy, and now it appears that an unknown enemy also has unfriendly intentions for Harry."

"Unknown, my ass." Declared Sirius, his moustache bristling over his parted yellowed teeth. Snape had been amused to discover that Black's long, twelve-year stint in Azkaban had rendered his dentistry as bad, if not worse than Snape's own. Ironic justice, considering the number of times Sirius had mocked him for it back in their Hogwarts years…

"Sirius?" Dumbledore looked politely affronted.

"It was obviously that Fudge character. He's terrified of what 'rumours' Harry will spread when he gets back to Hogwarts." Sirius had especial reason to resent the Minister of Magic, considering that, on top of refusing to admit that the Dark Lord had indeed returned, Fudge had also tried to administer the Dementor's Kiss to him.  _'Such a pity he didn't succeed.'_ Snape thought sourly.

"It's possible." Dumbledore agreed placidly. "However, I am unsure if Fudge is ruthless enough to issue such an order."

"He always was a coward." Squeaked Daedalus Diggle from a darkened corner of the table.

"What do you expect from a Hufflepuff?" Snape grunted. "No bravery, no intelligence, no cunning."

"An all-round turd." Snape was surprised to hear Bill agreeing with him.

"Have you anything else to report, Severus? You just had a meeting with Voldemort, did you not?" asked Dumbledore.

Once again, Snape winced upon hearing the name, a sharp burn flaring into his arm. Unconsciously, he rubbed his arm where the Dark Mark was burned, but upon realising a few people had spotted his action, he hastily dropped his arm to his side. "There is little to tell. He continues to lay low, while gathering supporters from all corners. However, you were right, Dumbledore, in believing he would try and recruit the giants once more. He has sent a few of his Death Eaters off to do just that. There is no word yet from his attempts to contact the werewolf packs, but knowing Fenrir Greyback's…  _appetite…"_ Snape flashed a sly glance at Lupin, who had suddenly paled on the mention of his old childhood nightmare. "…I am sure that he will succeed."

"And what did you do to make old Voldy mad?" Loudly asked Moody, grinning cruelly. "Unless, of course, your condition is due to his…  _affectionate attention_."

Snape bristled.

"What are you babbling about, Alastair?" Emmeline Vance said sharply, turning her head towards the old Aura in her queenly way.

"Oh, Moody has merely been playing the voyeur again, with that abominable eye of his." Snape sneered. "He is speaking of my flesh-wound."  _Since my privacy is obviously not going to be respected, I may as well be the one to tell them._

"Flesh-wound?" Molly, as usual, had her 'mother-hen' face on at the mention of one of their party being injured.

Mockingly, Snape held up his hand, which, after he had clutched his wound, was covered in blood. It was a good thing he always wore black, or his condition would have been brought up sooner. "Thanks to Mundungus's little adventure, I had to waste five hours guarding the  _Chosen One_ until Vance turned up. The Dark Lord did not get all potions.  _That_  is  _all_."

"Are you sure I can't do anything-"

"Yes, Molly. I'm sure." Snape snapped, irritation crackling in the dark depths of his eyes. He could not bear pity, or appearing weak. "What do you expect when going in the Dark Lord's presence? A tea party? I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, or do you forget that I was a spy in the last war too?" And with that, he turned his head and resolutely stared at the wall, ignoring the rest of the Order's gazes, letting them babble on about their plans to retrieve Potter. For Merlin's sake, did the boy really need nine escorts? Even Shacklebolt, of whom Snape had previously credited with some intelligence, seemed to have been caught in the glow of Boy-Who-Lived worship. Snape curled his lip in disgust. It wasn't like Potter had done anything special… it was Lily's actions that banished the Dark Lord for thirteen years, and now James' wretched son got to soak in his ill-gotten fame.

When the meeting was finally concluded, Snape quickly rose and headed for the kitchen door that led to the hall.

"Severus, wait." Lupin called. Snape stopped, breathing hard, and willing himself not to put his hand to his wound.

" _What?"_ he growled.

"I just wanted…" Lupin looked hesitant. "…to thank you for saving Harry's life."

Snape stared at him. Of course, it  _would_  be the cowardly werewolf who would be the one to thank him. "Well I can hardly say it was my pleasure." He said silkily. "But at least you appear to have better manners than the boy."  _And the rest of you- w_ as the silent infernal.

And with that, Snape spun about on his heel, drew his robes about him, and exited with an impressive inky swirl. But no one saw him when he stopped, breathing hard against the frame of the front door, shoulders quivering with pain.  _'I hate them all.'_ he thought wearily, and, carefully rearranging his Occlumenic shields to block out the pain, Snape straightened his shoulders and exited the Black house, oblivious to the screeches of the Black matriarch's portrait.

**_Remus Lupin_ **

**_August 2, 1995_ **

A slash of black fabric, swirling around Snape's slender frame, followed by the door slamming firmly shut… almost as one, the Order sighed with relief. Snape's presence was always so uncomfortable and prickly, but now, they could breathe again.

Lupin couldn't help a guilty pang as he too, puffed out a relieved sigh. It was Snape's fault, really. He was just so spiky and unpersonable.  _Although we didn't do anything to help him lower his guard…_ his wretched conscience hissed at him.

Dumbledore, Diggle, Doge and Vance all left a short time later, Dumbledore leaving, at Sirius's hospitable invitation, by Floo.

But for the rest of the Order, an evening meal was anticipated.

"Children, meetings over! It's time to eat!" Molly bellowed to the upper story, while getting up and starting to fuss around in the kitchen, removing steaming hot dishes of food from the kitchen's old-fashioned oven.

Four sets of ginger head bounced into the room, followed at a more stately pace by a head topped with a shock of soft, frizzy brown hair. While the Weasley children rushed over to greet various members of the Order, Hermione, Lupin noticed, had frozen at the door-way, turning an interesting yellow shade. "Excuse me… but is there some reason for this puddle of blood on the floor?" She called out over the rumble of chatter.

Another pang of guilt hit Lupin. What if Snape had been really badly hurt? He peered over the table at the puddle which Hermione pointed. It was  _rather_  a lot of blood.

"Blasted git." Sirius spat uncompassionately. "Now another thing to clean."

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Lupin spoke up. "That, Hermione, was uh… as a result of an injury Professor Snape incurred at the hands of Lord Voldemort."

Brown eyes wide, Hermione asked, "Has he been discovered?"

"'No, of course not." Molly soothed, moving over to the puddle of blood and gently moving Hermione away so she could clean it. "You-Know-Who just has a mangy temper and takes it out on his followers."

"Will the Professor be all right?" Lupin was surprised to find the kind little witch actually seemed concerned for the teacher he knew had never been pleasant to her.

"Who cares?" Ron called from his seat at the table, where he eagerly eyed the dishes on the counter. "It's Snape."

Lupin winched, remembering hearing those very same words so long ago…

" _YOU IDIOT!" Lupin had never been more angry with Sirius… "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!"_

_Sirius had tried a weak attempt at a grin, but even he didn't know how to handle a truly furious Remus Lupin. "It was… just a joke."_

" _Not only could you have gotten Snape killed… which… Salazar's scrawny balls, that was what you were **hoping**?"_

" _Well, I…"_

" _My best friend just attempted MURDER." Lupin sat down on his dorm bed, sinking his head into his hands. Then, he'd looked at Sirius with a haunted gaze. "And you tried to make me accomplice to that? Tried to turn me into a monster? A true monster? Not to mention, if I hurt Snape, I would have been sent straight to Azkaban! What the bloody HELL were you thinking?"_

" _I'm sorry." Sirius turned a little pale. "I hadn't realised it would have… I didn't think about what would happen to you."_

" _And Snape? What makes you think he deserved to die?"_

" _He was always sneaking around, trying to find out what you were."_

" _And now he knows!"_

" _Dumbledore took care of that. Told the smarmy git that he'd get the boot if he reveals anything."_

_Lupin stared at his friend in shock. "But… that's horrid. He just nearly died and now he's being threatened for **my** sake?"_

_In an attempt to comfort him, Sirius patted his hands. "You're a billion times more important than Snivilly. I'm sorry. Truly."_

" _What about Snape? Is he going to be all-right?"_

_His handsome face hardened into a mask of scorn, Sirius tossed his head. "Who cares? It's Snape."_

Food was set on the table, and the Order set themselves assiduously to the task of attacking their plates.

"So, what was the greasy dungeon bat doing here? Apart from bleeding all over the floor-boards?" Fred asked perkily.

"Fred, show some respect. He's your teacher, and he has a very difficult and dangerous role in the Order. You shouldn't make light of it." Lupin calmly reproved him. "Anyway, you know we can't discuss order business with you. You're not old enough to join the Order yet."

"Well." Sirius said, chewing heartily on a chickenbone, "We can at least tell them about Snivelly's little expedition in Privet Drive. They'll find out about that soon enough when Harry gets here."

"Harry?" Hermione looked up sharply. "Harry's coming here? When?"

"Five days. Half the Order is going out to get him." An expression of sourness appeared in Sirius's haggard features. Lupin sighed inwardly. He knew how much Sirius resented having to stay tucked away in Grimmauld Place while everyone else got to fight actively in the war against Voldemort, but he couldn't very well go and get himself sent back to Azkaban. Harry would have conniptions.

"Why the change in plans?" George asked.

"Harry will probably send Hedwig soon, telling us something of the matter. No replies, remember Dumbledore's orders." Said Lupin.

" _WHAT_  happened?" Snapped Ron impatiently.

"Dementors happened." Moody snarled. "Bloody Ministry out to get us all, now resorting to sending their pet misery-machines after the Boy-Who-Lived."

Hermione paled. "Dementors?" she whispered. "Is Harry okay?"

"Yes." Lupin quickly reassured her. "Though if it wasn't for Professor Snape, he'd either be soulless or expelled for using underage magic."

"Snape? Snape saved Harry? He hates him." Ron looked perplexed.

"This isn't the first time  _Professor_ Snape has saved Harry's life, Ron." Hermione looked disapprovingly at her friend. "Or me, for that matter. Remember he removed my… cat problem and de-petrified me."

"That was his job." Ron said dismissively.

"So is this." Sirius said, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of owing Snape for saving his godson's life. "He's  _apparently_ part of the Order, so…"

"But it wasn't even his shift, Sirius." Lupin said impatiently. "Even you have to admit he went above and beyond the call of duty."

"Which makes me wonder… how'd he even know Mundungus ran off?"

Lupin sighed. Sirius was determined not to allow his childhood enemy even the slightest bit of credit. "Why don't you ask him, next time? Perhaps along with a thank you?"

Sirius looked like he'd swallowed his food wrong. "Thank Snivellus? What the hell is in your cup, Lupin, that you'd suggest that?"

"I thanked him."

"You'd thank Buckbeak if he bit you in the ass, and then apologise for not being respectful enough." Sirius chortled.

Hermione flicked her head impatiently at all the irrelevant chatter. "Sir, Professor Lupin, how did Professor Snape ward off the dementors? I know Death Eaters can't conjure Patronuses…"

"In the words of old Snivelly, this Death Eater can." Sirius said with a surly swig of his goblet.

"You are joking!" Hermione gasped.

"No, Hermione, it appears that there is a great deal more light in Severus- Professor Snape- then anyone credited him with." Lupin said calmly.

"I wonder what his form was." She murmured, looking suitably impressed.

"Probably a giant bat." Fred said nonchalantly, prompting a great gust of laughter from all sides of the table.

But Lupin didn't laugh… he just smiled sadly and stared at the table. Even now, they laughed at Severus and mocked him. Even after what he had done that day for Harry. Even after he had revealed his power for Light magic… But then, just the day before, Lupin probably would have joined in with the laughter… it made the werewolf wonder… did anyone really care about Snape's feeling? For his dignity? Which, Lupin realised, was one of the few things Snape valued. He had no friends, no family, no fortune, cared little for his appearance… really, only his Slytherins, his skills and his dignity were the only things the man truly seemed to care about. Lupin felt an odd twinge that he recognized too well. He felt that every time he'd sat back and watched Snape being humiliated by the Marauder gang. Yet even this time, he sat back and watched as the Order member lasciviously attacked Snape's dignity, comparing him to all sort of loathsome creatures. Lupin just sat back, hating himself, and watched it all once again. Only this time Snape was not here to defend himself.

 


	3. Secrets and Plans

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter,_ I did not write  _Harry Potter_ , I did not create the  _Harry Potter_ world, nor design it's characters. THIS. IS. FANFICTION**

* * *

 

**Chapter 3: Secrets and Plans**

 

**_Severus Snape_ **

**_August 3, 1995_ **

Healing himself took several potions, a few healing spells, a five-hour nap, and a half bottle of firewhisky, but in the end, Snape was back at his little potion station in Spinner's End. He worked with a renewed vigour, knowing that a second bout of the Dark Lord's disapproval would leave him greatly weakened, and thus he almost missed hearing the hiss of fire that signalled an entry via floo.

Dumbledore was the only one besides himself to whom his fireplace was keyed to, so Snape was not surprised when he turned to find the old wizard clawing his way out of the cramped little fireplace, muttering some kind of genteel curse word as he banged his head on the mantelpiece.

"You could always Apparate here, since you hate that fireplace so much." Snape crossed his arms and glanced over at his Headmaster, a faint smirk quirking at the corner of his lips.

Dumbledore cheerfully brushed ash off his violently bright purple robes. "Thank you for your concern, Severus, but I think extracting myself from an uncomfortable fireplace is less strenuous than walking beyond Hogwart's Apparate point."

"You are a lazy old man, Headmaster."

"Of course I am. And at a hundred and thirteen, I think I have the right to be."

Snape turned back to his potions station with a sigh. Ordinarily, he would have enjoyed a good round of verbal sport with the Headmaster, but he was still exhausted from the night before… and had so much work to get done. "Why are you here, Headmaster?"

"I wanted to see how you were, Severus."

Snape rolled his eyes at Dumbledore's obvious lie. Dumbledore's attitude toward Snape's health could be summed up rather succinctly by the Muggle proverb 'out of sight, out of mind'. He would feel genuine concern for his soldiers when they were in his presence, but upon their departure, he returned to thinking of them as automatons.

"Very convincing, Headmaster. But as you very well see, I am fine. Now what is the real reason?"

"He knows about your Patronus." Albus said simply.

"Yes."

"Now, I can imagine your own personal feelings on this subject, but what is more important is the fact that Harry is not just an ordinary boy. This could be very dangerous… for you and for your position as a spy. If Voldemort-" upon seeing Snape wince, Dumbledore hesitated… "I'm afraid I won't refrain from calling him that, even to spare you pain, my boy…"

Snape gestured rudely for him to continue.

"Very well, if a certain dark wizard of our acquaintance manages to penetrate Harry's mind and learns about your Patronus we could be a serious disadvantage."

"Yes, and I could be dead." Snape said mockingly, grinding his black beetle eyes to power.

"That would bring me no pleasure, Severus."

"Yes, it would seem a rather pointless, strategically useless occurrence, wouldn't it?" was the caustic reply.

"You know I care for you, Severus."

"I know." Snape looked at his Headmaster without any bitterness. Yes, Dumbledore was the only person alive who cared for him. But ultimately, Snape was still a chess piece on Dumbledore's battle against the Dark Lord. "Yes, I know, Headmaster. But that will not stop you sacrificing me should the need arise."

Dumbledore sighed. "You don't even resent that, do you, Severus? You place so very little value on your life?"

"In that respect, I am no different to anyone else." Snape said silkily, stirring his cauldron when slow, calculated strides. "As to the boy… I do not know how strong the connection is… my studies have born little fruit. If, as you believe, the Dark Lord truly has a doorway into Potter's mind, as the boy does to his, than his learning Occlumency would seem a wise course of action. However…"

"Severus?"

"Occlumenists are rare… it is an art that few can truly master, and the Dark Lord is history's greatest Legilimens. You know this. The boy…. Potter is too open, too emotional… there is a reason Gryffindors have always made poor Occlumens."

"I am a Gryffindor, my boy."

Snape looked sneeringly at him. "We both know you have as much Slytherin in you as myself. Despite your prejudice against my house, you are more ambitious and cunning then the best of my snakes. The boy, however, has no such gifts. If you wish him to learn, I would suggest you commence his training at once."

Dumbledore slowly shook his head, his silver beard glinting in the light that the cauldron's soft underglow cast. "No, Severus, I will not teach him. You know I am going to distance myself from him this year. He cannot be allowed to be near me. If Voldemort- my apologies, once more, Severus… if he discovers the connection, he could use Harry to try and kill me. Apart from that being disastrous for the Order, it would destroy Harry, even to attempt it. And he would never learn of the prophesy."

Snape winced at the reminder of how he brought Lily to her death.

"I…" he struggled to collect himself. "I don't know what you intend to do then, if you will not teach him."

Dumbledore turned his laser blue eyes on him. "You are an intelligent man… I obviously intend  _you_ to teach him."

Horror-stricken, Snape stared back at the Headmaster. "Have you finally cracked, old man? Do you want us to rip each other apart?"

"Considering that for more than a year you were able to hide your true intentions from our mutual acquaintance, and that when you were but twenty, and you have shown yourself just as adapt now… Voldemort- as you said, he is history's greatest Legilimens… so I am beginning to believe that you are history's greatest Occlumens. You are eminently qualified to teach the boy"

"Flattering me is a futile pursuit. Potter and I hate each other. This talent cannot be learned without some measure of trust. And in any case, I was self-taught, and already had natural abilities. Occlumency can only be taught by applying oneself against invasion… he does not have the mental concentration to develop his own defences. Perhaps with a student like Draco Malfoy I could do it, but Potter? I would not know where to begin. I cannot do this, Headmaster."

"This is not a request, Severus, but an order." Dumbledore's blue eyes had lost their twinkle.

"You forget another other thing… if this connection allows the Dark Lord to see me teaching him Occlumency, you will have deprived yourself of a spy. We obviously cannot tell him of Potter's training."

"We will just have to hope the Dark Lord does not find out." Was the grave response.

Snape gazed into his cauldron, swallowing back his anger. "If the need arises… I will teach him." He sharply turned towards Dumbledore. "But Headmaster. This will not work. And when it fails miserably, allow me to say, 'I told you so.'"

Dumbledore got up. "Well then… I will see you in a weeks time at the next Order meeting. And, one more thing…"

"Headmaster?"

"The boy knows."

"I recall you saying that a short time ago." Snape quipped irritably, although he understood Dumbledore's meaning.

"I know you, Severus, better than anyone else. You may act reserved, taciturn, sarcastic, but I know you are panicking under that moody mask of yours."

"Hardly panicking." Snape said curtly, turning his attention to his potion to stay his roiling mind. "But… I… don't know what I will do should he learn the truth. It would be hard to bear."

"Especially considering how you have treated him over the years." Dumbledore commented mildly.

"I may have started it, but it's hardly been a one-way war." Snape muttered, ignoring the prick of guilt that nestled itself against his chest. "I cannot imagine he will stay silent about it. His word to  _me_ is nothing. Who abides by promises made to ones' enemy?"

"Considering you just saved his life when he made the promise, I think you should credit him with more integrity."

"I have no reason to believe the boy… he is an accomplished liar, like his father. He will not respect me enough to keep silent."

"He will honour his promises, even to you… however, I believe he may tell his two friends…"

"Of course, the Golden Trio. Always joined at the hip, the exception to the rules. Dumbledore's Golden Gryffindors, just like the Marauders." Snape spat, obsidian eyes beginning to spark with anger.

"Severus, when will you put aside your school-boy grudge?"

Snape's eyes snapped shut. Dumbledore could not understand. It was never a school-boy grudge… it cut so much deeper than that. He hated those words 'school-boy grudge'… he remembered Remus using them in the Shrieking Shack, remembered the younger Potter calling him 'pathetic'. No one cared to think about what those days really were to him, when he was bullied, relentlessly… because he existed. He'd decided when he started teaching to give people a real reason to hate his existence, but back then… what had he ever done to deserve their treatment?

"Is our business concluded, Headmaster?" Snape opened his eyes and stared coldly at the old man, the unspoken words  _'Get out'_ hanging clearly in the air.

"Yes, Severus." And with a sigh, Dumbledore trundled himself back into Snape's little fireplace, leaving Snape alone with his potions, his bitterness and his memories.

**_Events prior to this mostly follows canon storyline of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix Ch. 3-4a, the exception being that since Harry didn't use underage magic, the Ministry don't try to expel him and there is no hearing. The note he writes to Sirius, Ron and Hermione in Ch. 3 now reads so:_ **

**_'I've just been attacked by dementors and had to be saved by Snape (he has a Patronus!) He told me not to leave the house until I'm contacted, so I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here.'_ **

**_This AU begins at about Canon Ch. 4, pg 68. due to Snape's actions at Privet Drive, the conversation changes a little. If you want to read the book for context, just snip out the bits about Harry having to cast the Patronus. It begins after Harry reunited with his friends at Grimmauld Place and bit their heads off for not writing to him._ **

**Some of the conversation in the following segment is taken from Ch 4 of _The Order of the Phoenix_.**

**_Harry Potter_ **

**_August 6, 1995_ **

Harry paced the room, avoiding looking at his friends. While he felt ashamed for screaming at them like a petulant child, he couldn't shake the anger he felt towards them for shutting him out over the summer. He knew intellectually, of course, that it wasn't their fault… after all, no one ever disobeys Dumbledore, but he couldn't help feeling angry towards them, all the same. It had been a horrible summer, locked away from the wizarding world, having to deal with the Durseleys' vitriole… and having to remember Cedric's death. And now that he was back in his world, now that Voldemort had returned, now that he found he had to be on the outskirts of this Order of the Phoenix despite actually being in the very centre of the fight thanks to Voldemort… Harry was so angry and confused he barely knew what to say to his friends. Staring at the dusty floor with clenched fists, he finally spoke.

"So, what have you two been doing, if you're not allowed in meetings? You said you'd been busy."

"We have." Hermione said quickly, biting her lip. "We've been decontaminating this house, it's been empty for ages and stuff's been breeding in here. We've managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bedrooms, and I think we're doing the drawing room tomo- AARGH!"

Unceremoniously, Fred and George had materialised in the middle of the room, accompanied by two ear-splitting cracks.

Hermione looked as started as Pigwidgeon, groggily begging the twins to stop doing that. Harry got the feeling that uncalled-for apparitions had been a constant game for the twins over the summer.

"Hello, Harry." Said George brightly. "We thought you heard your dulcet tones."

"You shouldn't bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out. There might have been a couple of people fifty miles away that didn't hear you." Teased Fred, who was holding a strange object that looked like string flesh.

Harry flushed a little, realising that probably the whole house had been privy to his outburst. "So you two passed your Apparition tests, then?" he morosely asked, trying to steer the conversation away from his tantrum.

"With distinction." Boasted Fred proudly.

"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs." Ron pointed out grouchily, obviously having become quite bored with the twins' constant Apparition surprises.

"Time is Galleons, little brother. Anyway, Harry, you're interfering with reception." Fred quipped.

Harry raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression.

"Extendable Ears." Fred explained, holding up the string, which Harry now realised was trailing out all the way onto the landing. "We're trying to find out what's going on downstairs."

"You want to be careful." Ron warned. "If Mum sees one of them again…"

"It's worth the risk, that's a major meeting they're having." Fred said breezily.

A moment later the door swung open, and Ginny Weasley, the youngest of the red-headed clan, walked in. "Oh, hello Harry." She chirped, as annoyingly cheerful as everyone else in the whole damn house. "I thought I heard your voice."

_'Of course you did.'_ Harry thought sourly.  _'Probably even the bloody Hogwarts owlery heard me shouting like a madman.'_

She turned to her twin brother and informed them that their Extendable Ears were useless, due to their mother putting up an Imperturbable charm over the door.

"How'd you find out?" Harry could literally visualize George's drooping ears as he asked her.

"Tonks told me how to find out." Said Ginny. "You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can't make contact, the door's been Imperturbed. I've been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it, so there's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap."

Fred huffed a sigh. "Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to."

"Snape's here?" Harry was instantly interested. He'd been wondering all year exactly where his snarky Potions teacher fit into the fight against Voldemort, and the Patronus incident five days ago had just heighted his interested in Snape's activities.

"Yeah." George closed the door and sat down on one of the beds. "Giving a report. Top secret."

"Git." Fred said, as if by reflex.

"He saved Harry's life." Hermione said reprovingly.

Ron snorted. "Doesn't stop him from being a git."

He turned to Harry. "But, how'd that play out, anyway? You said that Snape chased the dementors away with a Patronus… what form was it? He didn't say."

"Oh…" Harry bit his lip. "I can't tell you."

"What?" Ron bristled.

"I mean, Snape made me swear not to, he said it would be dangerous to his role as a spy."

Hermione's nose crinkled in puzzlement. "That doesn't make any sense, Harry. It would be dangerous if Voldemort found out Snape could produce a Patronus  _at all_. What's so special about the form?"

Fred snorted. "I bet nothing. It's probably just really embarrassing, right Harry?"

_'Probably.'_ Harry thought. "Well… if I tell you guys, will you swear not to tell anyone else… or that I told you?"

"Harry, no." Hermione said reprovingly. "You promised him."

"Aw, c'mon, 'Mione, don't you want to find out Snape's big silver secret?" Ron poked her playfully.

"Yeh, Hermione, don't be such a granny. C'mon, Harry, spill." Fred leaned towards Harry eagerly.

"But… I promised Snape." Harry said hesitantly.

"And that's worth how much? He's  _Snape_. He promised Dumbledore not to tell anyone about Lupin, and did he keep his promise?" Ron said.

"You… make a good point, Ron." Harry smirked, feeling a sense of righteous indignation.  _This_ would get Snape back for getting Lupin sacked. "Allright, his form is-"

"Wait, Harry!" Hermione squeaked. "If you're going to tell us, it may be important… we have to solemnly swear to tell anyone. Perhaps make it magically binding."

"What, you want us to take an Unbreakable Vow for old Snapey?" Fred chuckled.

"No…" a sly smile played around the corner of Hermione's mouth. "Something else."

She went over to a dresser, grabbed a piece of parchment, and withdrew her wand.

"Wait!" Harry grabbed her sleeve. "You can't use magic here, you're underage."

"Oh, I worked it out a few days ago." Hermione brushed him off. "Don't you remember when Sirius told us about Snape knowing lots jinxes and curses when he arrived at Hogwarts? You can't know all that without having practised at home. His family were obviously magical, I mean, he's a Slytherin, so their magic use must have masked his."

"What?" Ron's eyes bulged. "You mean I could have been using magic years ago? Mum always said the Ministry would expel me. Are you saying they wouldn't be able to track me?"

"Well, there is a reason why underage wizards shouldn't use magic, especially when you are really little like Snape was. It can be dangerous, so you're Mum was protecting you. Of course, the rule is ridiculous once you are at Hogwarts, but I suppose the Ministry don't trust kids to be careful."

"That's fantastic." Harry gulped with excitement. He could practice magic during the summer.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Harry, but it won't work for you. When you are inside a house of other magic users, they don't track wands, only magic use. But you and me have don't magical pare-guardians. If we used magic in our homes, the Ministry would know it was us. Here, though..."

She grinned.

"And Fred and George knew this too… or have you never wondered how that teddy bear turned into a spider, Ron?"

Ron's ears flushed red while the twins laughed. "You caught us out, Hermione." Fred congratulated her. "Though using the example of little  _Snape_ is an odd way to figure the system."

"Hmm. Speaking of." Hermione passed her wand over the paper, muttering a few words. "All right." She shoved the paper towards Ron. "All write your names, then Harry can tell the secret. I've set it up so if anyone tells anyone Snape's Patronus form or tells anyone that Harry told them, they'll get badly jinxed… it will take months to remove. Harry is the exception, of course."

"Of course." Muttered Ron.

Ginny, Hermione and the twins all followed suit, and then turned expectantly towards Harry.

"All right, so much fuss for a little bit of gossip. What is it, Harry?" Ginny asked.

"His Patronus form is…" Harry lowered his voice, shoving aside the guilty pang he felt. "It's a … a doe."

Ron and the twins immediately squawked with laughter. "You're kidding." Gasped Ron between guffaws.

"No, it really is."

Ginny and Hermione, though surprised, looked at each other quietly.

"Harry, that tells us quite a lot about Snape, you know." Hermione bit her lip, looking very guilty. "That's actually really personal information. It's no wonder he didn't want you to know. Oh… this was a horrible idea."

"What do you mean?" Harry looked eagerly over at her.

"I… well, obviously Snape isn't a female, but having a female Patronus can only mean that it isn't his Patronus, but the Patronus of someone he was close to."

"You mean how I have my Dad's Patronus?"

"Yes. I've read a lot about it-"

"Of course." Ron mocked her, but she ploughed on regardless.

"-and having someone else's' Patronus signifies an unending affection and sometimes love. It is also often combined with loss… like continuing the Patronus line out of love."

"Snape, affection? Love?" Fred looked horrified.

"He is a human, you know." Hermione said testily.

"And here I was thinking he was a vampire…" Ron mocked.

Hermione huffed, and turned back to Harry. "Whoever the original owner of the deer Patronus was, it's not Snape. A reflection of yourself is gendered to match. I wonder who she was?"

Harry sat down heavily. "I don't know… he looked kinda nervous afterwards, actually… I thought it was about the dementors, but it may have been that I saw his Patronus."

"Well, who'd think old Snapey had secrets?" grinned Fred. "Maybe the lady Patronus is some long-lost love of his?"

This drew a loud laugh from the group… but Harry noticed Hermione still looked strangely contemplative…

"What, Hermione? Harry whispered.

"Harry. Remember the story of Illyius and Raczidian… only the pure of heart can cast a Patronus."

**_Severus Snape_ **

**_August 6, 1995_ **

The next Order had been set after the retrieval of the Potter boy… Snape fervently hoped he wouldn't have to run into the boy. When he arrived at the ugly, peeling door of Grimmauld Place and was greeting by a smiling Molly, he was surprised to find that this time, her smile was somewhat warmer and more genuine.

_'How curious…'_

And indeed, upon entering the meeting room, the gazes were not as hostile as usual. Most were still filled with dislike, or mockery, but Lupin afforded him a gentle smile, and Arthur drew up a chair for him with an affable gesture. Moody and Sirius remained much the same… but there was certainly a mellowing of sentiment towards him.

_'Perhaps they are in a good mood after the honour of being in Potter's sacred presence, or it could have been my actions a few days ago that finally convinced a few of them to partially trust me…'_ He mused, feeling faintly hopeful as he took his seat.

"Late again, Snape?" grunted Moody.

"Well it's hardly my fault that the Order and the Dark Lord seem to have simular ideas for suitable meeting times, is it?" Snape returned coldly.

"Tea, Severus?" Molly asked.

Snape blinked. She'd never asked him that before.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, not bothering to squelch the strain of suspicion that permeated his tone.

"Tea, Snivilly. You drink it." Sirius mocked.

"I know that." Snape gritted his teeth. "I…"  _'What harm would come from saying yes?'_ "Fine." He said ungraciously.

Molly, unperturbed, poured him a cup, and passed it over to him.

_'Something strange is happening...'_

He sniffed the cup. No veritaserum … no sleeping draughts… pure hospitality was it, then? Just as dangerous as either potion, in fact.

"Constant vigilance, eh, Snivelly?" Sirius jibed.

"Something you won't need to be concerned with for a long time, eh Black?" Snape snarled back. " _Sooo_  comforting for you, isn't it? To be tucked away snug down here while everyone else is in constant danger."

"Are you calling  _me_ a coward, you snaky, two-faced, Death Ea-" Sirius began, blustering angrily, but, to Snape's astonishment, Remus touched his friend's sleeve in what appeared to be a warning gesture, and Sirius fell silent.

Dumbledore, who had been deep in conversation with Shacklebolt, now turned to Snape, and with that benevolent smile of his, asked Snape for his report.

Snape suppressed a heavy sigh. "What I have to report will not be welcome news… the Dark Lord is interested in an object in the Department of Mysteries. A certain… prophesy." He shot a meaningful look at Dumbledore, who seemed to pale slightly. "He's looking for a way to get in…"

"We shall have to set guards, then... those with a Ministry position." Dumbledore decided immediately. "It is imperative that this prophesy does not fall into his hands. There it could be a terrible weapon…"

"Dumbledore?" Shacklebolt inquired. "What is this prophesy?"

The Headmaster hesitated. "I'm afraid it would not be wise to tell you, or anyone. If Voldemort should capture you…"

" _He_ seems to know something of the matter." Moody grunted through his shredded nose, shrugging his shoulder in Snape's direction.

"Yes, Alastair, he does know something, more than any of you, but still not everything."

Snape was relieved Dumbledore didn't say  _'He knows as much as Voldemort does.'_ That would utterly destroy whatever this strange, uncertain truce was.

The Order members who had retrieved Potter were excitedly giving their report. They had styled themselves as the 'Advance Guard', at which point Snape snorted conspicuously- who did they think Potter was, royalty? Sirius had been as antsy as Neville Longbottom over a hissing cauldron, and Mundungus, stinking of tobacco and firewhisky, had nodded off into heavy snores.

This time, most of the Order were not planning on staying for dinner… Dumbledore was leaving by Floo so Potter wouldn't see him, and Snape knew he, himself, obviously wouldn't be staying. He had never been invited, and if he ever had been, he doubted he'd ever allow himself to eat under Sirius Black's roof… still… he would have liked the option.  _'Don't push it.'_ He snarled to himself.  _'A smile and a cup of tea isn't going to change things. When do things ever change?'_

In the narrow hall that led to the front door, the Order wizards pressed close against him, all eager to get home to their own evening meals. Diggle brushed his sleeve, Podmore dug his elbows into his side… Snape gritted his teeth. They weren't doing it intentionally… their excitement over Voldemort's new focus had made them careless… but he hated being touched. At Hogwarts, students would scatter, pressing close to the walls to avoid even glancing him with their robes. But here, no one afforded him that respect. If he were a slave to his impulses, at this point Snape might have withdrawn his wand and blasted them all out of his way… but he was a spy. He was always in control.

_Control._

Yet the memories welled up once more.

_No! Control…_

_He was being buffeting on all sides, curses slammed pain into his body, but it was the physical touches, the blows, the scraping that he loathed the most. They acted like a pack of wild animals, without dignity or self-respect. They salivated with a bloodlust that had gone unsated for fourteen years... and since tormenting Muggles was currently too obstrusive, they would have to settle for an old... colleage of theirs. Snape stumbled, trying to regain his balance, but was pushed into yet another Death Eaters gleeful grip, then… slammed down into the dirt, face shoved down, forehead pressed into the moist ground. And the Dark Lord knelt at his side, gripping his chin with his newly born, bloodless fingers, scraping the skin off his cheeks with those curiously long, sharp nails…_

_Control._

It had happened a few months ago, that night he returned to the Dark Lord to resume his spying mission. He'd come a day after the dark wizard's return, waiting for Dumbledore to give the order… he'd told his second master that he did it to secure Dumbledore's trust, but the Dark Lord did not listen until his Death Eaters had visited on him the full force of their viciousness. Oh, the Dark Lord had eventually accepted his excuse, and even praised him for his forethought when Snape lay on the ground groaning, blood trickling from his mouth.  _"Ssseverus, I always knew you were a smart one. Waiting to secure Dumbledore's trust… just what I expected from my most loyal of servants. But next time… you answer **my** orders firsssst."_

It wasn't that experience that made him hate being touched… no, that reached back into his childhood. But every new trauma just brought the fear back…

_Control…_

He reached the door, just about to exit, when he half turned, feeling the heat of another's eyes in his back.

There. Perched up on a staircase, leaning over the bannister, eyes fixed firmly on him.  _Potter_.

Snape turned away. What did it matter if Potter found him an interesting specimen for observation? Yet he could not quell the uneasy niggling that tugged at the base of his stomach. What if Potter found out about the doe Patronus? Any intelligent person would instantly recognise the Patronus as a memorial-Patronus. Snape prayed that Potter had inherited none of his mother's intelligence…  _'But there is nothing I can do about his inheriting his father's nosiness.'_ He reminded himself dismally.  _Damn Potter._

 


	4. Wolves and Toads

**Chapter 4: Of Wolves and Toads**

_**Remus Lupin** _

_**August 7, 1995** _

It was one of those days when Lupin felt so tired he couldn't even remember the time or the day… but of course, he always knew the phase of the moon. Once again, full moon was approaching. He let out a resigned sigh, leaning back in his shabby armchair and rubbing his eyes. Such was life. For a werewolf, at any rate.

He was about to drift into a thin slumber, but the sound of scrapping at alerted him to another's presence.  _Death Eaters?_ He stiffened, reaching for his wand, but a loud, indignant  _hoot_  arrested his motion.  _'Idiot.'_ He told himself contemptuously, getting up from his armchair to let in the owl that was hooting impatiently at his window.  _'You are getting to be as paranoid as Mad-eye Moody, what with Voldemort running around. Like you'd be a target, anyway.'_

It was an unusual owl; coal black with a few soft grey wing markings and yellow, glowing eyes. "Now then, who is this from?" Lupin muttered to himself, reaching out to take the owl's proffered letter.

But the minute he looked at the sprawling, spidery script.  _Snape?_

The letter was short, venomous, and to the point.

_Lupin._

_Since you are now part of the Order, Dumbledore has decided, for charity's sake, to supply you with Wolfsbane Potion each month. Of course, the Order's resident spy and Potions Master once again has the pleasure of making it for you. You know Wolfsbane cannot be bottled, and as I do not wish to spill such an expensive brew mid-apparation, you will need to come every evening for the next week to my home to ingest your potion._

_I hope you will compensate Dumbledore's generosity by actually doing something useful for once in your miserable existence._

_My address is as follows: 24 Spinner's End, Cokeworth_

_Ill wishes,_

_Severus Snape_

' _Pleasant as always, Severus.'_ Lupin thought wryly to himself, putting down the letter. Charity was the right word for what Dumbledore was giving him. But he was a part of the Order… perhaps Dumbledore merely wanted him to be as healthy as possible…. For the Order's good? He clung to that idea, for the prospect of taking Wolfsbane once more made his heart thump joyfully against his chest. In those months at Hogwarts when he was able to retain his mind, he'd never felt so happy… not for twelve years. Being able to  _feel_  what it was to be a wolf… to embrace the positive side of his wolf form- all because he could remember it all with the clear intellect of a man and not a beast. Wolfsbane was the substance of his salvation, and he'd been so grateful to Dumbledore and Snape during that year of teaching. The loss of the potion had probably been the worst thing about having to leave Hogwarts- besides having to be separated from Harry once again.

This wasn't going to make Snape very happy. It was a time-consuming and difficult potion to produce, and from what Lupin could tell, it wasn't the only potion Snape had to make with a time limit.  _'The Dark Lord did not get his potions. That is all.'_ Lupin remembered Snape saying… and he also remembered the puddle of blood that seeped into the kitchen floor-boards. Despite Snape's ill wishes towards him, Lupin could tell with a sinking feeling that he was going to start feeling indebted to Snape again.

_Right, Cokeworth, then? I think I lived in an apartment around there once. Of course, my quarters were probably a lot less dignified that his own will be._

And, screwing up his eyes in concentration, Lupin apparated across an entire third of the British Isle. He stumbled, wheezing to regain his breath. Even when in the best of health, Lupin had never enjoyed Apparition… in some strange way, it reminded him of transformation. But where transforming involved something squeezing itself out of him, Apparition had the squeezing as an inward feeling rather than an outward one.

Lupin had apparated outside of his old apartment in Cokeworth, a building several stories high, and chillingly blank, like a prison cell block. He recalled how depressing it had been, living there for those few months. The apartment was full of the most wretched Muggles he had ever observed… some seemed completely bereft of their wits, others lolled around chocking down drugs or alcohol. Fights often broke out- he would hear through the thin walls of his apartment screams and the breaking of glass, the heavy sounds of objects being thrown, and the thumps of flesh upon flesh. He had fit in well there… the outcast, poverty-stricken half-breed. Yet the mood of despair was so thick… even he in his lowest moments had never succumbed to the depths of depression that had permeated that Cokeworth apartment.

He took a Muggle taxi down to Spinner's End, not knowing it's precise location. In his twelve year-long solitary sojourn, Lupin had had to learn to walk among Muggles. In many ways, despite his complete lack of qualifications, it had been easier to find employment among Muggles than among his wizarding kin-folk. But he always had to move on every time the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures discovered his proximity to the 'poor defenceless, ignorant Muggles'.

Spinner's End… was not what he had expected. The word 'dunghill' leapt readily to mind. It was one of several streets in a cube like series of brick houses, many of which seemed to have been long abandoned, boarded up, with windows dripping in cobwebs. A kind of hush filled the narrow streets- as if even the very air itself loathed to breath. The only sound that could be heard was a faint murmur, coming from a dirty river that's bank was strewn with age-old litter. Looming up beyond the houses was an old, shambled mill that looked like it hadn't seen sentient company for a good half century. This was obviously an old abandoned factory town. It seemed like most of its residents had packed up and left at least a decade ago. Lining the coal-blackened streets were broken streetlights, a scant few of them winking slightly in the summer's eve. The air seemed dead and heavy, a faint scent of vegetation-rotted mud coming up from off the river.

This was not what Lupin had expected.

Severus Snape, the immaculately dressed, tightly buttoned Potions Professor… living in such an poor, abandoned, disgusting place? Perhaps it was the isolation he enjoyed- scarcely a soul in sight for the entire summer. Yes, that did sound like something Snape enjoyed. But still… he would have earned enough money teaching at Hogwarts to afford another home. ' _A peek into the mysterious world of Severus Snape… and so soon after the Patronus. I doubt I even knew this much about him when we were at Hogwarts together.'_

Lupin walked uncertainly down the street, jumping at the innocent movements of an alley-cat. Spinner's End was… creepy…  _'Just like Snape.'_ He passed each house, noting the numbers of each- at least of those that's numbers had not been rubbed away or broken off. Snape's house was at the very end- Lupin didn't even need the numbers to tell which was his, for among the scores of darkened houses, from his, a faint gleam of light emanated beneath curtained windows.

Cautiously, Lupin knocked on the door. It felt… strange, as if it was a door that should not be knocked on. Yet Snape  _had_ sent him the letter.  _'He'll probably hate someone coming to his home.'_ Lupin realized nervously.

It was barely a moment since knocking that the door opened a fraction, and through the crack, Lupin could see Snape's familiar sallow features.

"Lupin."

"Severus."

Snape opened the door, stepping back. "You'd better come in. I'd prefer your arrivals to remain unobtrusive. It the future, you can Apparate to my back door."

"You do not want people to see me?" Lupin stepped in, puzzled. "But these streets are abandoned."

"Ah." Snape said in a hushed tone. "But there are those that know where I live. People who would feel displeasure at the sight of my  _associating_  with you… so, we will make this brief."

The room Lupin had entered was a small sitting room, dimly lit and lined almost entirely by darkly-bound books… not even a fireplace broke up the endless wall of books. A single lamp-covered candle gleamed from the ceiling, it's dim light failing to illuminate the darkened corners of the room. A tattered armchair and hard, lumpy couch were set in the centre of the room around an old spindle-legged table, the latter of which was covered in a sheen of undisturbed dust.

"Through here." Snape stalked towards one of the book-covered walls, and withdrew his wand, flicking it in front of him. A hidden door smoothly opened, disguised out of the book-shelved wall.

Lupin followed him through, keeping two paces behind Snape as he walked up a thin, un-railed staircase. Lupin couldn't help but notice that the spy wasn't wearing his usual billowing robes, although the rest of his attire remained relatively unchanged. The absence of Snape's protective cloaking allowed Lupin to see the sharp line of his shoulder bones, and he noticed how the closely hugging cut of Snape's frock coat emphasised the extreme narrowness of his waist.  _'Snape always was a scrawny git… but amazingly, since our school days, he's gotten scrawnier.'_

Atop the staircase was a hallway, its walls papered in a peeling dark green. It was a completely blank hallway, with no paintings and a dull wooden floor. Several doors led off into various rooms, but Snape, in a geometrically straight line, cut directly into the hall's first door.

The room they entered was obviously Snape's study, but arranged in such a makeshift way it was clear to see that this was only used for summer break. A small paper-strewn desk was shoved off into the corner, accompanied by a flimsy, straight backed wooden chair, and from the desk slowly sputtered a dim candle that dripped its greasy wax onto a wooden plate beneath it. A small, ash-clumped fireplace was carved into the brick wall at the back of the room, and in the corner next to it was a small potions station. It consisted of a low table cluttered with ingredients, and next to the table stood two caldrons, from which one shimmering blue smoke arose as it bubbled beneath a faint magical heat. This room was more modest in its array of books, with just one or two book shelves. But these books gave off a different kind of feeling, a feeling Lupin remembered from when Sirius and James had once persuaded him to use his prefect status to enter the Restricted Section.  _Dark Magic_.

Snape left Lupin gaping around the room, and, striding over to the bubbling caldrons, withdrew his word, wordlessly summoning a stream of the glittering black potion which he then siphoned into a metal goblet.

"Your Wolfsbane." Snape handed it to Lupin with a sneer.

Feeling both revulsion, guilt and glee, Lupin grasped the goblet and drank it slowly, gagging at the foul taste. Passing it back, he looked into Snape's eyes, and, putting as much genuine feeling into his voice as possible, said "Thank you, Severus."

Snape merely looked sourly at him. "I made enough to last until full moon. Come at eight each evening until then."

' _Chatty, isn't he?'_ As they once again descended the staircase, Lupin attempted to make conversation, despite knowing it was probably a bad idea. "I don't think I've ever seen so many well-used books in one place. Even more studious now than when you were younger, aren't you?"

"That is likely because my studies have these years gone largely undisturbed." The venom in Snape's voice was unmistakable. Lupin winched, knowing Snape was talking of the times when the Maruaders' would shred his homework papers, jinx the library books out his hands, or attack him while he was studying outside. Yet despite their efforts, Snape still achieved Outstanding on every single one of his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Still, Lupin couldn't stifle the faint annoyance over Snape's obvious resentment. For Merlin's sake, it had been nineteen years since Hogwarts. How had Snape still refused to grow up and get over it?

"You still clinging to your school-boy grudges, then?" Lupin sighed, coming to the foot of the staircase, and nearly bumping into Snape when he froze, stiff as a board.

Slowly, Snape turned around, his obsidian eyes seeming to flow like flames. Fury dragged his voice down to a dead whisper, as he hissed, "You know why you insist on calling it that, don't you, Lupin? You don't want to sully the glowing image you have built up in your mind about Potter and that mutt. So, you convince yourself that all it was a childhood grudge… a petty resentment."

"Sever-" Lupin began weakly, but Snape was relentless.

"Yet you feel so  _guilty_ , don't you? And you hate yourself for feeling that way. You feel it is a betrayal of your friends. That facing their true nature for the first time in your life would be such a departure from tradition that it would be wrong. You are as cowardly then as you are now."

Lupin felt as if he'd been savaged in the gut. Snape was so, cuttingly right. Lupin loved his friends… he worshipped the memory of James, remembering all the good he was capable of, the loyalty, the love. The way he and Sirius had turned Animagus just for him… Yet in Snape's presence, that image of his friends always seemed to quiver with guilt. How had Snape been able to read him so clearly?

"Severus-"

Snape cut him off once more. "Why don't you  _say_ it? Call me  _Snivellus_  just like the mutt does. You can't try and make friends, werewolf, and cover over what happened. It won't work until you admit the truth. Get off the fence for once in your life and make a choice."

Lupin stared at him. Snape was being strangely personal. He rarely spoke about what happened during his school-years. When Lupin returned to teach at Hogwarts, he'd barely recognized Snape, with the memory of that twitchy, angry, shabby boy replaced by a frigid, graceful figure, whose hatred was conveyed calmly through expression and insinuation rather than spluttering curses. The only time he had seen that angry boy re-emerge had been on that disastrous night in the Shrieking Shack two years ago. The madness in his eyes had allowed Lupin to forget all about Snape the Professor and think of him only as Snape the Slytherin school-kid. But now, despite his words recalling Lupin to the image of said school-kid, Snape's marble-cold black eyes seemed self-contained, each word drawn out with steady calculation. The emotion was clear in his voice, the loathing, the bitterness… but there was something else… a question? As if in some corner of his mind, Snape was watching him, observing…

"You have to grow out of your hatred, Severus. I know James and Sirius were unkind to you at school, but you hardly displayed the olive-branch yourself, did you? You always hexed us back twice as hard." Lupin argued desperately.

"Well, there were four times as many of you, weren't there? But I never seem to recall even  _once_ starting it. Do you? I seem to remember retaliating and defending myself… or does my memory fail me?"

Lupin gulped, feeling hot and cold flushes coming on him under the intense gaze of Snape's black eyes. "I admit they… we… were foolish children back then, Severus. But we were just  _children_. Children do foolish things. And you know _I_  never pranked you."

A flush appeared on Snape's narrow cheekbones and a faintly deranged glint appeared in his eyes. "No,  _werewolf_. You just sat back and watched it happen. Prefect Lupin, hiding away in a book or staring at the floor, while his friends tort-" he paused, and breathed in slightly. "And let's not forget the time you tried to eat me."

"I had nothing to do with that, Snape." He protested hotly, although he knew guilt was dancing clearly across his features.

Snape curled his lip at Lupin, conveying clear disgust in his expression. "Maybe you could have told me all those years ago, then. I don't recall you doing  _anything_."

Snape then swept away from him into the other room, stopping in the middle and crossing his arms. "Leave, werewolf. Now." he refused to look at Lupin.

"I…" Lupin sighed. What a mess. Talking to Snape would always be doomed to end in anger and insults. If it didn't begin that way in the first place. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow?"

"To drink your potion. Not to talk. Now get out." Was the flat response.

_**Severus Snape** _

_**August 7, 1995** _

Snape stared at the suspended lamp as it flickered in and out. What a stupid idea. A stupid  _and_ expensive idea. Surely the Order's trust shouldn't mean so much to him that he would have to be  _kind_  to Lupin, waste his own Galleons on Wolfsbane, and have to re-live his childhood torments in order to guilt Lupin out of cowardice? Snape had grown older, more experienced… he knew how to manipulate people. But he had never tried to manipulate them into being  _nice_  to him. He'd never needed to. Or, for that matter, wanted to. But this was a war, and Snape knew how much more effectively he could contribute to it if only the Order would trust him. He had decided at first to let their hatred slide over him. It was nothing new. He had experienced such feelings for his first few years of teaching. But the staff eventually mellowed, and life became easier for Snape. He'd even been able to suggest reforms in the school without being scorned and ignored. But having to go through Lupinto gain the Order's trust? It was an uncomfortable and risky venture. And if Dumbledore found out… which he very well might… Snape paused, and wondered just  _what_  Dumbledore would think. Sometimes he wondered if Dumbledore wantedhim to be isolated among the Order. It had seemed that way in the first war. But many years had passed since, and Dumbledore trusted him a lot more than he had previously. And considering his continued declaration of absolute trust in Snape… surely he would not be averse to Snape's taking a more active role? For there were so many things Snape could suggest at those Order meetings, but he always held his tongue, knowing the distrust that would be met by his words. Gaining the Order's trust would go way beyond merely Slytherin manipulation. He could achieve that among the Death eaters because most of them were also Slytherins and thought in simular ways. But with the Order, a group of people that connected through warmth and friendship, sympathy and conversation… Snape had candidly admitted to himself years ago that he had no social skills. This would prove exceedingly difficult. But by providing Lupin with Wolfsbane, Snape knew the werewolf would feel that same guilty-gratitude that he felt towards him that year when he taught at Hogwarts. It would be a useful thing to hold over the werewolf, who was so emotionally obvious, so weak… but if Lupin discovered that it was not Dumbledore who ordered such a potion made… well, Snape wondered exactly  _what_ the werewolf would make of that.

Back again at the potions station, Snape stared resentfully down at the Wolfsbane. He had more potions to deliver to the Dark Lord… a man, no, a  _creature_  who was rarely satisfied. In the summer months before the Dark Lord's return, Snape used to work on his academic papers. He'd been so close to a breakthrough and had hoped to present his completed Eye-Sharpening Potion to the Brotherhood of the Silver Caldron at Europe's annual Magical Academia Elite Symposium by the next summer. But now it seemed that his genius would be put on hiatus until the Dark Lord was destroyed. Invention was the only thing Snape took pleasure in these days, and at Hogwarts, his creativity was often sadly strangled beneath piles of poorly written essays.

With a snarl, he took his seat back at the potions station and began preparing all manner of loathsome poisons to be used for the Dark Lord's perverted pleasure.

Before starting each schoolyear at Hogwarts, the teachers customarily returned a week before the end of summer break to prepare for their classes. Snape hated coming back to Hogwarts almost as much as having to leave it. Leaving it meant months in a horrid old house full of bad memories and poor potion supplies, whereas Hogwarts, despite its superior laboratory, included the necessity of enduring hours spent in the presence of dunderheaded children who couldn't tell the difference a Shrinking Solution and a caldron of pumpkin juice. And one must not forget the endless staff meetings that week heralded, meetings that filled the nights with more boredom than once could conceive possible to fit into a single sitting. The only interesting thing that happened during the year's first meetings were, unfortunately for Snape, tainted with jealousy and anger, for he couldn't help but hate every new DADA teacher that Dumbledore hired. None of them would ever be as knowledgeable as himself in the Dark Arts, yet they consistently managed to get the job, no matter how lacking their qualifications. Even Mad-Eye Moody, despite his skills as an Aura, even he could not rival Snape's suitability for the job. Even when Moody was revealed to actually be the Dark Lord's servant, Barty Crouch Jr. ... no, Snape was qualified above them all. But  _especially_ against this new one.

"Hem-hem."

"Yes, and this is our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Dolores Umbridge." Dumbledore turned to give her a wide smile, peering down at her through his half-moon glasses.

A flood of fury swept through Snape's limbs as he stared incredulously at the newly nominated winner of the job he so coveted.  _HER?_ Loathsomely plump, with a flat little round face, flabby, rouged cheeks and protruding eyes, draped in fluffy pink clothing and wearing a simpering loose smile, Dolores Umbridge looked as if she could barely hold a wand, let alone teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Snape whipped his head around to stare at Dumbledore.  _Why?_ Was the unspoken lament. He knew he could teach better that class better than any teacher had in the last twenty years… and there were a lot of teachers to choose from, given that none of them had lasted beyond a year. But still…  _her_?

If her appearance didn't discredit her abilities enough, the minute she opened her mouth, Snape knew he had found a DADA teacher he loathed more than Lupin.

"If I may be so bold to introduce myself further, beyond your kind introduction, Professor Dumbledore? Greeting, Hogwarts teachers, on behalf of the Ministry, for in their capacity I am here today."

Snape saw his fellow staff-members exchange dark glances with each other, for no one had missed Umbridge's meaning.

"Hem-hem… The Ministry of Magic has always affixed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with an approvingly and benevolent eye, yet we must at times pay closer attention to what goes into the little minds of the impressionable of our wizarding society. The Ministry looks upon the teachers of Hogwarts with nothing but respect, yet we cannot be too careful. It is a time-honoured tradition to allow teachers free reign over their subjects and teaching method, but the Ministry feels that the time has come for some measure of restrictions to be placed upon these habits, seeing as the knowledge teachers impart in so important to our youth. We must nurture our children, must we not? Keeping the from harmful influences and idea, protecting them in both body and mind. The Ministry is…"

God, would the woman not be silent? After all, he had heard quite enough to know what was going on. Was it not enough that Dumbledore had been demoted to Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, that he and Potter were maligned across the  _Daily_   _Prophet_? Now Fudge was trying to get his nose inside the very school, and interfere with their teaching methods? But why had Dumbledore allowed Fudge to let the toad-woman into Hogwarts in the first place?  _Ultimately, the Ministry control Hogwarts._ Snape reminded himself glumly, tightening his lips resolutely as he forced himself to sit through the rest of Umbridge's simperingly threatening speech.

_On top of the Dark Lord's return, Dumbledore's shrinking of power, now we must deal with_ _**this** _ _? This year is about to get a make-over on the meaning of 'miserable'._


End file.
